


Another Sick Day

by brunchywrites



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst, Gen, References to Drugs, Sick Fic, Sickfic, batfam, because. i can., it be like this sometimes, its a solid jason has food allergies fic feat me projecting my issues, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunchywrites/pseuds/brunchywrites
Summary: Jason Todd doesn't think he can get sick anymoreLife likes to prove his wrongAka. The Author Projects her issues onto Jason and calls it a night





	Another Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> So forgive my Alfred characterization, it's been a while since I've written as him and it's.. fun to say the least
> 
> hmu on my tumblr @brunchyarts.tumblr.com 
> 
> also yeah i write a lot of jason todd illness fics sorry

Jason couldn’t recall a single time he got sick since his dip in the Lazarus Pit. Naturally, he assumed that he couldn’t get sick anymore, surely if the pit could bring someone back from the dead, it would fix their shitty immune system too. 

But of course, things never went Jason’s way, ever. That was to say one thing led to another, a fight in the cold, a stakeout in a near blizzard; Being raised in Gotham he was used to rain, so he again, assumed he wouldn’t get sick.

Assumed until he was leaning over his toilet bowl at seven in the morning, cold sweat prickling the back of his neck, his brain pounding against his skull as he breathed in and out shakily. Jason couldn’t remember feeling like such shit in his life. He welcomed the cold from the toilet seat like a dying man to water against his cheek. 

Could he get up? He had to ask himself. Part of him wanted to stay on the floor and go back to sleep, the other part wanted to call someone, anyone. He blamed the part of his brain that still wanted to rely on other people.

He picked his head up and tested his newfound boundaries. For a moment his vision spotted and he blinked too quickly. His head wouldn’t stop pounding, and he forced himself up to his knees. One step, then another. He took it slow and forced himself to be patient, an absolute feat for him.

It was a messy process, and he barely thought though it. He hobbled back into his bedroom and nearly collapsed looking for his burner phone. The phone was the only device with everyone’s number on it and he prayed he didn’t leave it downstairs. 

He leaned over his bed and held his head in his hands. The throbbing pain was overwhelming, halting every single one of his thoughts. For a moment he wondered if it was a migraine, but the pressure around his eyes screamed sinus problems more than anything else. 

Jason hissed a breath out through his teeth. Who was he supposed to call? He didn’t have Dr. Thompkins number, Roy changed his after a recent stint with god knows who. 

He picked himself up on his elbows and felt around his nightstand in the dark, it was a snail’s pace but he found purchase on the metal brick and mechanically punched in a number. Through his own brain fog he couldn’t remember who, even seconds after putting it in. 

Ring…. ring…. ring.. 

The sound made his head hurt worse and he threw the phone back onto the bed, instant regret reminding him of his poorly thought out decision.

A cold voice cut through his fog like a lighthouse, a beacon of hope for a split second. 

 

Just a split one.

“What is it now?” 

Of course he called Bruce. What the fuck was he thinking? Oh right, he wasn’t.

Tears of frustration bud in his eyes and he can’t reach for the phone to end the call. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the mattress. He wanted to scream, pit madness had been one thing but whatever his body was doing? That was infinitely worse. 

Then again, human brains naturally chose to forget pain, maybe it was nothing. 

“Hood, answer.” 

An order, of course. 

Jason only groaned, and it was guttural to his own ears. He wasn’t a dying animal but he couldn’t see anything when he opened his eyes. Maybe he was roadkill? Yeah. A run over raccoon..

“Where are you?” The cold voice went soft for a fraction of a second. 

It was enough, enough for him to tilt his head towards the burner phone and rasp out, 

“57th.. Lincoln-“ His voice cracked and he exhaled shakily. His throat felt like it was burning, bile rose up and he had to swallow it down. 

Then he couldn’t swallow it down, he coughed and gagged, forcing his head up so he wouldn’t choke. 

His ears started ringing by the time he was kneeling on the floor, his entire body shaking with the exhaustion of having thrown up for the fifth time in a thirty minute time span. 

“..- Five minutes.” The line went dead and Jason sagged and fell to his side. He felt like he was dying, actually dying. Every breath made his lungs rattle, his head wouldn’t stop pounding, and everything felt numb. 

He wanted sleep, desperate sleep, anything to get away from his body..

When he woke up it was to a cold hand against his cheek, the back of his head being cradled carefully, like he was a priceless item to behold.

“Has his fever broken?” The voice sounded muffled, wind whipping around it. When did he get in a car? 

“No, it’s getting worse. His eyes are open.” The words were short, crisp.

Jason recognized that voice. He tilted his head towards the it and tried to look at him. When did Bruce get there? Questions danced around his brain but were forgotten just as quickly as he thought of them. 

He blinked slowly and tried to move his arm up, “B..” his throat was on fire, and his sound was quickly drowned out by the wind. The windows were down? Weird.

“I’m here,” a calloused thumb brushed under his eye, “Go back to sleep.” 

His voice was still cold, and it was another order. Jason was never good at listening to orders. 

“N..o,” Bruce’s hand was cold against his face and he leaned into it heavily. His body felt like it was made of lead and he couldn’t move.

“Jason, you’re sick. Go back to sleep.”

Maybe Bruce was trying to snap but it came more as a plea. All those words really said was, I don’t know how to help you right now, sleep. 

Sleeping was how Jason used to deal with illness, he caught a bad flu in seventh grade and promptly slept for nearly twenty-four hours had it not been for Alfred, who prodded him awake for water at around five the following morning. 

The memory shouldn’t have been funny but he found a chuckle go through him and immediately regretted it. He turned his head into Bruce’s stomach and coughed wetly. The taste of iron flooded his mouth while he coughed and a strong handed patted between his shoulders. 

“Breathe-”

His head throbbed again and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall against a kevlar covered thigh. Black spots shrouded his vision and he was gone before he could clear his throat. 

When he woke up again he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He felt like he was seeing through electrified cotton, and that was his hint that he was definitely medicated. 

His next hint was the i.v in the middle of his forearm, and the dull beeping of a machine behind him. Part of him expected to be in the medbay but he was in a guest bedroom.. Maybe. The bed was too soft to be a cot but seeing was proving difficult from where he laid. 

“Ah, waking up at a miraculous hour, Master Todd?” Alfred’s sarcasm cut through the beeping and Jason looked up at him, or towards him. Everything blended together into colorful blobs if it wasn’t close enough. 

“Mm,” he hummed, “‘Guess so. What happened?” 

A small cup of water is in his hand before he can blink twice and he drinks it without thinking. For a moment Alfred was silent. 

“That I am not exactly sure. Medically you just happened to catch a god awful stomach virus-”

“Oh, good. Then I can leave once the meds wear off-”

“I wasn’t finished.” 

Jason flushed in embarrassment, nodding a silent apology. 

Alfred cleared his throat, “And you were drugged.”

“No I wasn’t,” the response was mechanical, even to himself. He blinked heavily several times and looked down at himself. “I was?” 

“Unfortunately, but the good news is that it’s effects will wear off within the next twenty-four hours. We’re going to push fluids and get some food in your system, lad.” 

Jason nodded and relaxed against the mountain of pillows behind him. 

“How long have I been out?” He couldn’t tell where Alfred was in the room. His eyelids felt heavy and the world spun around him like a horrible trip.

A hand was on his shoulder, and another tilted his head up. All Jason saw was moving lips and the noise went back to static. He blinked heavily, trying to make sense of it.

Another wave of exhaustion rolled over and he slumped, letting his eyes close, head dipping into his shoulder.


End file.
